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While Rome Burns
#1 bestseller for nonfiction in 1934. From Harpo Marx to murder, by a topper of the Algonquin Round Table. Included are his review of O'Neill's "Mourning Becomes Electra," musings on his trip to Russia in the early 1930s, a view of the theatre in Peking (Beijing) and thoughts on Lillian Gish, Damon Runyon. A combo of '30s whimsy and acerbity.
328 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 1934
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About the author
Alexander Woollcott
133 books15 followersAlexander Humphreys Woollcott (1887-1943) was an American drama critic and commentator for The New Yorker magazine, a member of the Algonquin Round Table, an occasional actor and playwright, and a prominent radio personality.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
August 30, 2015
Traveling to Japan ? Aleck advised, given in-out etiquette : "Remember to bring a shoehorn." We remember Woollcott today, if we remember him at all (1887-1943), for a few one-liners -- and his portrayal in the Kaufman-Hart play "The Man Who Came to Dinner." The fat fairy, also rendered as Waldo Lydecker in "Laura," was a lit-drama critic-essayist, sometime actor, radio host and self-styled aribter of taste. A whimsical blowhard (and king of the famed Algonquin Table of the 20s), he mixed Dickensian ripoff writing w the picaresque, but has anyone actually read his sketches?
O dear --.
This collection is almost unreadable. How times change...Most members of the "Round Table" vaporized. The only talent was George S Kaufman, who cowrote and directed a dozen Bwy hits. What do we recall abt Dorothy Parker: she said of Kate Hepburn, in a play, "She ran the gamut of emotions from A to B." Very funny, Dot. But topping her, always, is Dawn Powell, who didnt have a lit clique cheering her.
Founding the NYer magazine, Harold Ross wrote: "Its general tenor will be one of gaiety, wit and satire." Ross scooped up Aleck and his Algonquin pals..and the NYer became a closed shop, as it remains today -- without any wit, at all, under David Remnick, who cumms over the trials-tribulations, social grievances of the world. Mind you, Ross started the NYer as the Depression exploded. (Take a memo to Mr Remnick...)
From 1929 until his death, Aleck had a radio show in which he discussed books. Aleck perfected the camp Comedy of Insult ("Hello, Repulsive.."). Then he died during a radio broadcast..how perfect is that? Today we have idiot Late Night TV hosts promoting trash movies w trash actors...as the civilized clock turns backwards. Life today is all PR.
Aleck's "sketches" herein startle with how lame the writing is. In fact, a NYer editor gasped, "He can't write!" For historical note, there's a woozy-boozy kiss to actress Maxine Elliott, who soon had the money, one way or another, to build her own theatre and retired to the S of France (we like her) and a caustic slap at murderess Nan Patterson (new for me) who shot her lover in a hansom cab, but got off scot free by 2 all-male juries in 1905. Decades later Aleck gurgles there's a legend that, "she is living in Seattle a life given over to good deeds and horticulture." (He's trying to grasp a wisecrack).
He reports on Russia, 1932, when the corrupt NYT correspondent Walter Duranty (see : google) was sending lies to the USA. (NYT has a history of stinko-sicko forn reporting). Says Aleck with glee: "I have been here long enough to learn that the major Russian industry is...printing pictures of Stalin." He got that one right.
I also like his : "When you are reading a book review, it is sometimes helpful for you to know something of the reviewer's bent and bias."
O dear --.
This collection is almost unreadable. How times change...Most members of the "Round Table" vaporized. The only talent was George S Kaufman, who cowrote and directed a dozen Bwy hits. What do we recall abt Dorothy Parker: she said of Kate Hepburn, in a play, "She ran the gamut of emotions from A to B." Very funny, Dot. But topping her, always, is Dawn Powell, who didnt have a lit clique cheering her.
Founding the NYer magazine, Harold Ross wrote: "Its general tenor will be one of gaiety, wit and satire." Ross scooped up Aleck and his Algonquin pals..and the NYer became a closed shop, as it remains today -- without any wit, at all, under David Remnick, who cumms over the trials-tribulations, social grievances of the world. Mind you, Ross started the NYer as the Depression exploded. (Take a memo to Mr Remnick...)
From 1929 until his death, Aleck had a radio show in which he discussed books. Aleck perfected the camp Comedy of Insult ("Hello, Repulsive.."). Then he died during a radio broadcast..how perfect is that? Today we have idiot Late Night TV hosts promoting trash movies w trash actors...as the civilized clock turns backwards. Life today is all PR.
Aleck's "sketches" herein startle with how lame the writing is. In fact, a NYer editor gasped, "He can't write!" For historical note, there's a woozy-boozy kiss to actress Maxine Elliott, who soon had the money, one way or another, to build her own theatre and retired to the S of France (we like her) and a caustic slap at murderess Nan Patterson (new for me) who shot her lover in a hansom cab, but got off scot free by 2 all-male juries in 1905. Decades later Aleck gurgles there's a legend that, "she is living in Seattle a life given over to good deeds and horticulture." (He's trying to grasp a wisecrack).
He reports on Russia, 1932, when the corrupt NYT correspondent Walter Duranty (see : google) was sending lies to the USA. (NYT has a history of stinko-sicko forn reporting). Says Aleck with glee: "I have been here long enough to learn that the major Russian industry is...printing pictures of Stalin." He got that one right.
I also like his : "When you are reading a book review, it is sometimes helpful for you to know something of the reviewer's bent and bias."
October 19, 2013
Feather light.
This collection of Alexander Woollcott's writings was supposed to showcase his magazine articles from 1929 to 1933. If this is the showcase, the rest probably aren't worth seeking out. Although broken into different parts--an unnamed first section, legends, the century of progress, some neighbors, "It May be Human Gore," Your Correspondent, Program Notes and Book Markers--the essays here can be classified into two (maybe three) groups: personal sketches and mysteries. (The travel writing, reports from Moscow, China, and Japan, are based on the sketch premise, but do expand beyond it.) For the most part, these do no cast any new light on the subjects, and are meant mostly to excite interest.
It is clear, too, from these essays that Woollcott's style did not always suit his subject. This from the beginning of a crime article, for example--“In a recent June, New York was all agog about the activities of a nameless citizen whose nocturnal practice it was to go about shooting amorous motorists. Seemingly he then took up some other fad and, since no arrest was ever made, he is already forgotten, so difficult is it for even the most earnest of us to stay prominent in this distracted and distracting age.” The wit here is revealed not to be a clear thinker, but something of a nihilist.
The one set of essays that did earn a long-time audience was a subspecies of his mysteries: not tales of true crime, but legends, or as he had it, "folklore in the making." (Interestingly, this collection does not include what he claimed was his first writing on the subject). Some of his theme have been found again and again in modern folklore, particularly "The Vanishing Lady." And some experts in urban legends consider him a kind of godfather of the field (Contemporary Legend: A Reader, Gillian Bennett, Paul Smith.)
Woollcott, though, had a very rudimentary understanding of such tales. He was interested that they could pass on with no shred of truth, and felt that the tellers had to be absolutely convinced of their authenticity. Neither of these propositions have stood the test of time. Mostly he seems to be interested in them as lapidary stories--there short compass and surprise ending fit well within the space constraints of his own writing, his stylistic tics, and the light (almost meaningless) intent of his essays. They were to amuse, but not to linger.
Indeed, that seems to be a good epitaph for Woollcott. And it is not meant as a negative judgment. Amusing others, giving them entertainment and joy it a great thing. It is just that his work does not translate across eras very well.
This collection of Alexander Woollcott's writings was supposed to showcase his magazine articles from 1929 to 1933. If this is the showcase, the rest probably aren't worth seeking out. Although broken into different parts--an unnamed first section, legends, the century of progress, some neighbors, "It May be Human Gore," Your Correspondent, Program Notes and Book Markers--the essays here can be classified into two (maybe three) groups: personal sketches and mysteries. (The travel writing, reports from Moscow, China, and Japan, are based on the sketch premise, but do expand beyond it.) For the most part, these do no cast any new light on the subjects, and are meant mostly to excite interest.
It is clear, too, from these essays that Woollcott's style did not always suit his subject. This from the beginning of a crime article, for example--“In a recent June, New York was all agog about the activities of a nameless citizen whose nocturnal practice it was to go about shooting amorous motorists. Seemingly he then took up some other fad and, since no arrest was ever made, he is already forgotten, so difficult is it for even the most earnest of us to stay prominent in this distracted and distracting age.” The wit here is revealed not to be a clear thinker, but something of a nihilist.
The one set of essays that did earn a long-time audience was a subspecies of his mysteries: not tales of true crime, but legends, or as he had it, "folklore in the making." (Interestingly, this collection does not include what he claimed was his first writing on the subject). Some of his theme have been found again and again in modern folklore, particularly "The Vanishing Lady." And some experts in urban legends consider him a kind of godfather of the field (Contemporary Legend: A Reader, Gillian Bennett, Paul Smith.)
Woollcott, though, had a very rudimentary understanding of such tales. He was interested that they could pass on with no shred of truth, and felt that the tellers had to be absolutely convinced of their authenticity. Neither of these propositions have stood the test of time. Mostly he seems to be interested in them as lapidary stories--there short compass and surprise ending fit well within the space constraints of his own writing, his stylistic tics, and the light (almost meaningless) intent of his essays. They were to amuse, but not to linger.
Indeed, that seems to be a good epitaph for Woollcott. And it is not meant as a negative judgment. Amusing others, giving them entertainment and joy it a great thing. It is just that his work does not translate across eras very well.
November 27, 2021
Alexander Wolcott, an author, from the mid 20th century, seems to be a mix of latter day (1970s) celebrities Paul Lynde, Rex Reed and Joan Rivers, all boiled into one acerbic Broadway critic who always has some one's name to drop or some one (or something) to skewer with his fabulous "reading" skills (see RuPaul for current definition).
He never stopped promoting himself, or someone he was attracted to (see Harpo Marx for ref).
He felt he was so self important, he decides to stay in the studio during a live radio broadcast while he was having a heart attack, that proved fatal when they took him to the hospital after the show.
I was familiar with the man, and knew he participated in the Algonquin Round table discussions and included his bestie Harpo Marx (who never completed the 2nd grade) to join the intellectual mucketty mucks, like Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, etc.
Not only was Harpo a minor gangster, he could never remember lines… hence, his brothers made him a mime. I also didn’t know that Wolcott was infatuated with Harpo and he was responsible for the rave play review to "I'll Say She Is", that it was the catalyst to the Marx Brother's meteoric rise to super stardom.
With this background information about Wolcott, I also found out that this book was picked by the Library of Congress as an influential 20th Century writing.
The book is just full of 2-3 page anecdotes, full of names from early 20th century Americana (and even earlier!), mostly all East coast and Broadway based. Per another review of this book, the author covers trips and such but this reader quit reading after the 1st 1/3 of the book.
According to sources, the only reason this was a best seller was because the author conveniently shilled it constantly on his radio platforms. And this review agrees 1000% [sic].
I learned more about the author as I trudged through his stories, in search of some relevance or an iota of interest. I got tired of reading about these people who have been long buried and mostly forgotten.
If you need to research someone in the author's orbit, this might provide some info. However, I am not interested in a prickly/prissy entitled (and self-aggrandizing) queen's thoughts, who came and went before the age of television.
He never stopped promoting himself, or someone he was attracted to (see Harpo Marx for ref).
He felt he was so self important, he decides to stay in the studio during a live radio broadcast while he was having a heart attack, that proved fatal when they took him to the hospital after the show.
I was familiar with the man, and knew he participated in the Algonquin Round table discussions and included his bestie Harpo Marx (who never completed the 2nd grade) to join the intellectual mucketty mucks, like Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, etc.
Not only was Harpo a minor gangster, he could never remember lines… hence, his brothers made him a mime. I also didn’t know that Wolcott was infatuated with Harpo and he was responsible for the rave play review to "I'll Say She Is", that it was the catalyst to the Marx Brother's meteoric rise to super stardom.
With this background information about Wolcott, I also found out that this book was picked by the Library of Congress as an influential 20th Century writing.
The book is just full of 2-3 page anecdotes, full of names from early 20th century Americana (and even earlier!), mostly all East coast and Broadway based. Per another review of this book, the author covers trips and such but this reader quit reading after the 1st 1/3 of the book.
According to sources, the only reason this was a best seller was because the author conveniently shilled it constantly on his radio platforms. And this review agrees 1000% [sic].
I learned more about the author as I trudged through his stories, in search of some relevance or an iota of interest. I got tired of reading about these people who have been long buried and mostly forgotten.
If you need to research someone in the author's orbit, this might provide some info. However, I am not interested in a prickly/prissy entitled (and self-aggrandizing) queen's thoughts, who came and went before the age of television.
June 19, 2020
Alexander Woollcott is called, on the still existing but ragged dust cover, a raconteur. He was part of the Algonquin Round Table in the 1930s, maybe before. Dorothy Parker wrote the notes which appear on the dust cover; they, alone, are worth reading. This is a rather old book, from 1934. Some of the references are obscure to me, some faddishness passè, or is it passé, well before I was born, but if you are of an age, about which I will be no more precise, you might enjoy this a lot, as did I. It ranges from Broadway to Russia, from humor to horror. A collection of his newspaper and magazine columns, I think and a great piece of history.
Want to read
August 28, 2022Groucho had an inscribed copy on his bookshelf, #106 of a limited 500 book print run.
December 9, 2023
Read one piece, got the feel of it, that was enough.
I watched Laura (noir, 1944), and one of the characters was based on Woollcott, so I thought I'd check it out.
I watched Laura (noir, 1944), and one of the characters was based on Woollcott, so I thought I'd check it out.
January 2, 2010
Having never known him as more than a name associated with the 1920s and 30s, I was kind of surprised that ALexander Woollcott seemed to have dipped his pen into a bit of everything; a good chunk of real estate in While Rome Burns is dedicated to the theater beat, literature, true crime, and biographical sketches, although no one subject can be said to have absolute priority. This is the place where you can find the "definitive" version of at least one longstanding urban legend (the one about the lady who vanished from the Paris Exposition), and if you're a student of this American period (that's me, more or less), here is also his famous character sketch of fellow Algonquin Round Table member Dorothy Parker. His theory about what crawled up George Bernard Shaw's butt and died (not in those words, of course) is also a lot of fun for all, except maybe the vegetarians. In spite of the fact that a set of footnotes would help the modern reader figure out the then-current society, literary, and entertainment types that are frequently namechecked in his anecdotes, it's not completely necessary to get the gist of things.
July 30, 2014
Dated yet timeless.
Correction to publication details: the book was first published in March 1934, not November, by the Viking Press. The copy I have was from the twelfth printing, October 1934.
Read
February 9, 2010While Rome Burns by Alexander Woollcott (1937)
November 17, 2016
What: humoristic scetches / anekdotes
Like: sometimes humoristic and entertaining
Dislike: small stories and a bit too much "look at me"
Like: sometimes humoristic and entertaining
Dislike: small stories and a bit too much "look at me"
April 7, 2017
My review of this book, along with a related cocktail, is available on my blog.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews